


Go The F**k To Sleep

by cjmarlowe



Category: Sesame Street (TV)
Genre: Bedtime, Endurance - Freeform, M/M, Masturbation, Orgasm Denial, kink bingo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-28
Updated: 2013-07-28
Packaged: 2017-12-21 16:23:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/902371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cjmarlowe/pseuds/cjmarlowe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's hard to take care of business, even in the dark, when you share a bedroom with your best friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Go The F**k To Sleep

"What are you doing, Bert? Bert? What are you doing over there?"

Bert very carefully wrapped his fingers around the edge of the blanket, so that they could no longer touch anything else. "Go back to sleep, Ernie."

"All right," said Ernie, shifting in his bed, then fluffing his pillow, then shifting again. "But what about you? Are you going back to sleep too?"

Bert took a very deep breath, through his nose, exhaling slowly. "Yes," he said, ignoring the parts of his body that were not in agreement with his mouth, which was all of the rest of them. "It is nighttime. It is dark. I am going to sleep."

Ernie tossed and turned, hummed tunelessly, fluffed his pillow again and flopped onto his side. "But what if I'm not sleepy, Bert?"

"Just close your eyes and count sheep."

"Why sheep?" said Ernie. "How many sheep should there be?"

"That's not the point of counting sheep," said Bert, counting to ten in his head. "You count until you fall asleep."

"So the sheep go on forever?" said Ernie, and Bert gripped the blanket harder, distracted by the hardness of his body somewhere else entirely. "What are they doing? Are they in a big line?"

"It doesn't _matter_ ," said Bert. "It doesn't have to be sheep. It can be cars, or butterflies."

"Or rubber ducks?"

"Or rubber ducks," said Bert. "You can count rubber ducks floating down a river."

Mercifully, Ernie did not ask why the rubber ducks were in the river. Instead he flopped onto his back and started counting out loud. "One...two...three..."

Bert could not move yet, but each number sounding off equaled a throb from under the sheets, where Bert's body continued to stand at complete attention, waiting for his hand to return.

"Forty-seven...forty-ei..."

Bert waited.

"..."

Bert waited a little longer.

"..."

Finally he sighed with relief, let go of the blanket and slid his hands beneath the covers again. He felt warm all over, but he didn't dare move from beneath the blanket, keeping everything private, keeping it all secret. The rhythm of Ernie's counting was still in his head and he stroked himself to it, forty-eight, forty-nine, all the way up to seventy-six. 

"Why aren't you sleeping yet, Bert?"

Bert squeezed his eyes shut, pulled his hands out from under the covers again, and grit his teeth for a few moments before he was able to speak normally. "Because you don't stop talking to me!"

"Well sure I do, Bert," said Ernie. "I just stopped for thirty-two whole rubber ducks."

"Twenty-eight."

"What?"

"You're talking to me _now_ ," said Bert. "Why did you stop counting?"

"Well, the rubber ducks started to get bored and drift off in different directions," said Ernie. "Very difficult to count."

Bert counted to ten in his head. Again. "The rubber ducks were in your imagination, Ernie," he said, "so how did they start wandering off?"

"Hmm," said Ernie. "Hmmmmm. Well, I guess I just got bored, Bert. All the rubber ducks looked the same. It was all very repetitive."

Bert mashed his lips together, and gripped the blanket so tightly it was tugged taut against some parts of his body that _really_ didn't need something rubbing against them right then.

"That's the _point_ ," he said. "That's why it's supposed to put you to _sleep_."

"Oh," said Ernie, then was quiet for a moment that should have been a relief but mostly just made Bert feel more tense. "Well, it didn't work."

"Yes, yes, I can see that it didn't work," said Bert. There was a wet spot on the sheet now, and not just where he'd bitten it trying to hold his tongue. "You should try it again, Ernie, you should definitely try it again."

"Maybe rubber ducks weren't the answer," said Ernie. "What about giraffes? Can I count giraffes?"

"You can count anything you want!" said Bert. "Just close your eyes and stop talking to me!"

"Oh, okay, Bert," said Ernie. "Whatever you say."

Bert grunted and tried to use his toes to prop up the blanket and listened to Ernie's breathing. He wasn't counting out loud this time but he was making a soft noise, "Unh....unh....unh...." and Bert waited till he stopped making it, till his breathing got slower and he made a snort-like sound before shoving his hand under the blankets again. Shoved, because he was even more desperate this time and he was going to make a big mess if he didn't hurry up.

He rustled the blankets more this time, but he wasn't worried about that until the moment, when he was right at the cusp, eyes closed, bed creaking ever so softly, when Ernie said:

"Are you asleep yet, Bert?"

"No, I am not asleep yet!" he shouted, which covered the sound of him yanking his hand back out again, and rolling on his side so he didn't tent the sheet.

"Well, how are you going to get to sleep talking that loud?" said Ernie.

Counting to ten wasn't enough this time. Bert counted to twenty. "Ernie, why are you still awake?"

"The giraffes were distracting me," he said. "Giraffes are surprisingly hard to count too."

"Then maybe," said Bert, "just maybe, that's why people count _sheep_."

"You said I could count anything," said Ernie. "That's what you said, Bert, you said it didn't matter what I counted."

"Only you, Ernie," said Bert, banging his head against his pillow. It was unsatisfying, much like every conversation he'd had with Ernie since they put the lights out. "Why don't you do what you do every other night to fall asleep?"

"If I could do that, Bert, I'd already be asleep," said Ernie. "Maybe you could sing me to sleep. Do you know any lullabies?"

"Do I know any...? Ernie, I am not singing you to sleep!"

"Come on, Bert," said Ernie. "One little song? I'm sure it would put me right out."

"Fine," said Bert. "Fine. Anything to get you to go to sleep. One song."

"I'm sure one song is all it will take," said Ernie, and Bert tried to unclench himself as he heard Ernie settling in.

"Twinkle twinkle little star—" he started, and hoped they would never speak of this again. And if every time he sang 'twinkle' he touched himself, at least the sound of the song was covering it for him. He sang it twice, just to be safe. "Ernie?"

No answer.

"Ernie, are you asleep?" he whispered.

Ernie snored and Bert was off like a shot. He was already _so close_ , on the edge for so long now that it was almost painful. When Bert climaxed, quietly because he was pressing his lips so hard together it was going to leave marks, it was the best it had ever been. He saw the stars he'd been singing about, and forgot about everything else for a little while.

The wet spot was definitely bigger now. Bert was just going to have to live with that, and shifted the covers over so that it wasn't right on top of him. Then shifted around a little while longer to try to get comfortable. His whole body felt heavy, and he was going to drop off any mo—

"You going to go to sleep now, Bert?"

Bert finally lost it. "Ernie, why are you still awake?!"

"Well, I tried, Bert, but it was a really short song," he said. "And you were making so much noise."

"I was _not_ making noise."

"Oh, but you were, Bert," said Ernie. "Your blankets sure do make a lot of noise when they move around. I bet you're much more relaxed now, though. You should go right to sleep."

Bert's heart pounded as he thought about that (and counted to thirty in his head). "Ernie, did you know what I was doing all along?"

"Sure did, Bert!" he said cheerfully. "I just thought I would help you out to make it better. That's what friends do."

Bert groaned and shook his head, "Good night, Ernie."

"Good night, Bert!" said Ernie. "Sweet dreams!"


End file.
